


just something about you turns me to a savage

by neverazombie



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breathplay, Breeding, Choking, Come Sharing, Comeplay, Edgeplay, Face Slapping, Frottage, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mentions of come inflation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Size Difference, Size Kink, Snowballing, Spanking, Strength Kink, The Potions Made Them Do It, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Under-negotiated Kink, this could not have been more depraved if i had actually tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22983127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverazombie/pseuds/neverazombie
Summary: Had Geralt told him to stay at the inn, citing nonspecific danger to Jaskier’s person?Yes.Had Geralt told him not to follow him under any circumstances, because of said nonspecific danger that was unclear would be inflicted by Geralt or the monster?Also Yes.Was Jaskier slowly inching his way towards the ruins where the monster had made it’s nest, following the directions the mayor had grudgingly provided Geralt because really, what could Geralt do to him that he hadn’t already?Absolutely Yes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 96
Kudos: 2690
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	just something about you turns me to a savage

**Author's Note:**

> As I wrote this, all I could think of was that meme "But my silence. Permanently. For $8,000, I will stop" because I could not stop letting my id vomit out all over the Google Doc. 
> 
> Thanks to SixPonderous for headcanoning this with me and then helping me get this filth written. 
> 
> Please read the tags. I know there's a shamefully large amount of them, but please make sure y'all are prepared for the many and varied kinks that found their way into this fic. Could probably play a pretty successful round of kink bingo with just these 9K words...

Jaskier crept his way as slowly as he could through the brush at the bottom of the hill in front of him. Quiet. Quiet was key. 

Had Geralt told him to stay at the inn, citing nonspecific danger to Jaskier’s person?

Yes.

Had Geralt told him not to follow him under any circumstances, because of said nonspecific danger that was unclear would be inflicted by Geralt or the monster?

Also Yes.

Was Jaskier slowly inching his way towards the ruins where the monster had made it’s nest, following the directions the mayor had grudgingly provided Geralt because really, what could Geralt do to him that he hadn’t already?

Absolutely Yes.

He had been following - pursuing - the Witcher for just shy of a year, and other than their first adventure, had yet to actually witness an actual encounter between Geralt and any of the fearsome creatures in his bestiary. In his opinion, he had been far more than patient, scrounging scraps of stories from Geralt’s frankly abysmal recollections. 

He needed better quality material. Straight from the source. Seen with his own two eyes. He could create far more impressive songs of a witcher’s heroic deeds based upon his own experience. 

When he had brought this up to the witcher over the past five or six contracts, the man merely stared at him until Jaskier made up excuses to be elsewhere for the moment. Today, Jaskier had tried to be extra convincing. Geralt seemed to realize this, as Jaskier had leaned over his shoulder at the shoddy wooden bar of the tavern they had met the mayor in. Instead of silently intimidating him, he had turned to the bard, smirked softly. Jaskier’s breath had caught in his throat a little at the attention. Geralt had cupped a large, bare hand around his shoulder, paused, and then said “Don’t test your luck, Jaskier.” When Jaskier opened his mouth to object, Geralt’s hand had caught the side of his face and gently pushed him backward, the man then moving to the door of the tavern to leave.

Jaskier immediately set to wondering how he could get Geralt to put his hands on him again.

It was also no hardship to watch Geralt in action. They had had a few run-ins with bandits and brigands on the side roads Geralt tended to favor, and it had been a… privilege to watch him dispatch the human monsters without breaking a sweat.

It made Jaskier wonder what else the Witcher could master without exerting himself terribly. 

Geralt had casually brushed aside every - Every! - attempt Jaskier had made to insinuate himself into the man’s bed. He hadn’t outright ignored it, rather seemed bemused by it but ultimately uninterested. 

But Jaskier’s mama hadn’t raised a quitter.

Tonight though was purely a professional interest. This was about getting a raw, real glimpse into what witchering really entailed.

And if Jaskier happened to find Geralt’s show of inhuman strength incredibly appealing, that was just a-a-a perk! A happy coincidence.

He pulled the blanket around him a little closer and shuffled carefully through the saplings scattered along the hill.

The blanket had been a stroke of genius, if you asked Jaskier. He had snuck into the stables and bribed Roach, via the application of many, many apples, to lend him the blanket she was usually covered in while she slept. Jaskier considered himself more than familiar with the strength of his witcher’s enhanced senses, so disguising his scent had seemed like an excellent step towards remaining undiscovered in his observation. 

As he scaled the small hill, he felt his breathing grow quickly labored. Perhaps the hill wasn’t quite as small as he had first thought… perhaps his very frequent engagements in the bedroom weren’t keeping him quite as fit as he thought.

He struggled to keep his breathing as soundless as possible, sure that Geralt’s senses were heightened more than ever in the middle of a hunt. 

As he neared the crest, he dropped down to all fours and wriggled his way up to the top, minding any sudden movements he could make that could draw attention.

Jaskier could not have been more lucky with the conditions of the night - bright with a full moon, a balmy temperature with barely a breeze to carry sound or scent. 

As his sight adjusted, well, it wasn’t hard to spot Geralt. The man stood boldly in front of the keep, head held high as he seemed to study the structure closely. His silver hair was practically luminous in the moonlight. Not that Jaskier needed any more romantic-sounding fodder for his songs than he already had, thanks very much.

Jaskier was content, for the moment, to stay sprawled out on his belly on top of the hill, chin propped up by his hands as he avidly observed the witcher. 

The mayor had been convinced that whatever monster had taken up dwellings in the ruins near the town, it had been some form of vampire. Geralt had seemed wholly unenthused at the idea, but had taken the contract with the promise of 600 ducats. Jaskier had tried to wheedle out of him the root of his dislike of vampiric beasts, but Geralt had simply grunted at him and started digging through Roach’s saddlebags for his leather pouch of potions. 

Jaskier had seen him down a healing potion or two after a particularly intense battle, but he could see from the size and color of the contents that there were a wide variety of potions available to aid the witcher, and his curiosity had been piqued. 

Geralt had set his pack down on the nearby base of a crumbling column, and already had his silver sword in hand. Jaskier watched as he rummaged through the pack and withdrew two bottles. He downed one quickly, and carefully stowed the bottle back in the pack. The second, he held onto, seemingly waiting for some unknown cue. 

Minutes passed. Jaskier resisted the urge to approach further, trying to stay out of the range of what he thought Geralt’s senses might cover, Geralt watching the gates of the keep vigilantly, unmoving. 

A shrieking cry pierced the night, breaking the stillness and calmness. 

Jaskier’s heartbeat leapt in his chest, anticipation starting to eat at his insides. Geralt held his position, the only sign that he had heard the sound the defensive crouch he had sank into. 

There was a quick movement at the top of the stone keep. Geralt uncorked the bottle he was holding and downed the potion, now tossing the bottle aside and gripping his sword in both hands. Jaskier held his breath, excited to see what was sure to be an epic battle.

A pale creature humanoid in shape with a vaguely feminine figure, taller than Geralt, heaved itself over the stones towards the witcher, screeching angrily. Geralt recklessly charged straight towards the creature, an alp, if Jaskier wasn’t very mistaken, meeting it head on. The alp sprung up into the air, diving at an incredible speed towards the witcher. One of it’s irregularly long arms, ending in an uncomfortable set of long talons, managed to catch Geralt’s arm as the man rolled out of the way, drawing blood. 

Geralt seemed incredibly unconcerned for a man openly bleeding in the presence of a vampire. The witcher had oriented himself next to a half-collapsed column and was waiting for the creature’s next attack. 

The alp wasted no time and once again made an impossible leap into the air. As it came down, directly above Geralt, the thing drew back it’s arm to strike. As it brought it’s clawed hand down, it caught in the stone of the column, and the alp jerked to a halt. It hung about a yard above the witcher by its claw. Both parties paused, seemingly caught off guard by the blunder. 

Geralt, of course, recovered first. The witcher reversed his hold on his sword, caught the edge of the crumbling column, and launched himself above the alp with one strong pull. As he arced down out of the jump, with one stroke he swung the blade upwards and cleanly decapitated the alp. The thing’s head sailed across the grassy field while it’s body went limp, still held in place on the column by its embedded claw.

Well, that had been all together far too short. Impressive, yes, but short. Impressive for sure, how many men would be able to propel themselves higher than the wall of a keep, would be able to take the head off a monster in one blow? Geralt’s strength, though easy to ignore in an everyday setting, could not be questioned in battle. 

Jaskier gazed on as Geralt, still kneeling where he landed, took a few heavy breaths. He then pushed himself back to his feet and gestured sharply with his hand towards the alp’s body. It burst into flames, but he left the head where it was, presumably to collect it to earn the contract fee. 

Geralt seemed to take a moment to make sure the corpse was burning properly, and then returned to his pack. He drove his sword into the ground, and reached for the pocket with the potion bottles he had drawn from before.

Now that the danger was eradicated, Jaskier was weighing the possibility of approaching the witcher, to catch him in a post-battle high, as it were. Surely Geralt wouldn’t be too angry to have a companion to share in his victory? 

Geralt rummaged through the bag, withdrawing many bottles and scattering them onto the grasses around him with more and more urgency. After a few moments, he upended the entire pouch and dropped to his knees, running his fingers over every bottle, searching out for a particular find. 

Jaskier could hear the man’s fervent “Fuck” from his perch on the hill.

Well, that seemed to be… not good. Not so good.

Geralt seemed to slump over for a moment, the grounds in front of the keep silent except for the crackling of flame as the alp’s corpse was eaten up by the fire. 

Concerned, Jaskier pushed himself to his feet, shoving off Roach’s borrowed blanket from his shoulders, making his way down the hill towards Geralt.

He didn’t make it more than half a dozen steps before the man’s head snapped to face him. 

He had… severely underestimated the witcher’s acute senses. 

Well, nothing for it now, Geralt had seen him and he might as well roll with it. 

Picking up his pace, he trotted down the hill until his feet landed on the stone path that led to the keep’s gate. Geralt hadn’t moved since he had spotted him, still crouched next to his sword and potions. 

“Well, Geralt, I’ll be honest, I was hoping for a slightly more...prolonged battle for my first, but I can certainly make a proper song out of this!”

Geralt remained silent, remained still.

“It looked like perhaps the monster managed to get a blow in - do you need any-”

Geralt rose abruptly, with far less grace than his normal movements, and turned to face Jaskier directly. That alone caused Jaskier to pause in his tracks.

Now that he was close, he could see the witcher’s face had.... Changed.

It was pale, far paler than his normal complexion, and his eyes had gone black as pitch. The veins around his eyes bulged out, black and stark against his complexion. 

He looked… monstrous.

Jaskier was easily hypnotized by the sight. It was Geralt, but...more. More elemental, more powerful than he normally saw him. More the force of nature many claimed witchers to be, more the aberrant mutants others whispered with less kindness.

They stared at each other, an uncertain stillness in the air. 

“Your eyes, Geralt, they are- does it hurt?”

Jaskier’s brain caught up with him, taking in the whole picture - Geralt, breathing heavily, draped in his armour, gloved hands clenched, black eyes pinning him where he stood. No wait, it wasn’t his brain that had caught up. His cock swelled to half-hardness in his trousers. 

Geralt finally moved, tilting his head back slightly and… and inhaled deeply. As he exhaled, he took a heavy, laboured step towards Jaskier. 

Jaskier didn’t flinch, didn’t move, but felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched Geralt intently. 

“Geralt I uh, I hope you aren’t too terribly upset with me, but I have had quite enough of being left behind and I uh…”

Geralt took another deep breath in.

“Jaskier…”

The sound was guttural, torn from deep in the man’s throat.

“Ger-”

“Run.”

“Wh-”

Geralt lunged for him and like any good prey, Jaskier fled. He wasn’t sure he understood what was happening, but his body seemed more than ready to respond to threat of a predator the magnitude of Geralt. Rather than run back the way he came, the hill surely would slow him down, he stumbled and sprinted towards the low stone wall bordering the lawn of the keep. 

And this wasn’t Jaskier’s first time being pursued by less than friendly acquaintances, not even his first time fleeing with a half-hard cock bouncing in his trousers, so he knew exactly when he needed to… He threw his body to the side not a moment too soon, feeling Geralt’s fingers scrape the back of his doublet as he sprinted forward. Jaskier reached the low wall, planted two hands on it and hoisted himself over in one clean jump, landing on his feet neatly. He preened internally - it took a certain set of skills to avoid angry cuckolds and his agility had certainly improved during his travels.

He heard a downright beastial growl behind him, the sound of the heavy tread of boots scuffing against stone, and then dug his feet into the ground as Geralt landed in front of him, having vaulted over his head off the wall.

If that was supposed to startle Jaskier… his cock disagreed heartily.

Jaskier held up his hands, a show of surrender. 

“Now, Geralt, I don’t know exactly what’s gotten you so riled up but-”

“Fuck, Jaskier, Stop. Talking. You need to-”

Jaskier gestured widely, as if to ask what he should do instead. 

Geralt approached him with jerky, unsure motions, as if he were fighting every step. He was mere inches away when he threw back his head suddenly, gritting his teeth and exhaling violently. Every muscle in his body seemed to seize up, armor creaking loudly in the night. 

Jaskier drank in the sight eagerly, still not feeling an ounce of true fear, just a faint anxiety over Geralt’s unpredictable behavior. 

Jaskier couldn’t hold his silence any longer, had too many questions to let the moment pass by…

“If you make a single sound, Jaskier, you will find your mouth quickly full of something other than words.”

Jaskier’s jaw snapped shut, mostly out of shock rather than obedience.

“There was a fucking reason I told you not to follow me. And now… fuck!”

Geralt’s body tensed again, black eyes wide and teeth bared as he lashed out and wrapped his hand around Jaskier’s throat. Jaskier made no effort to defend himself, not wanting to rouse Geralt further while he was unfamiliar with the man’s mood. Geralt considered him for a moment.

“Unafraid and aroused, you make this almost too easy, Jaskier. Did you even really try to escape me?”

His voice was somehow even deeper than normal. Jaskier swallowed heavily, feeling the pressure on his throat from Geralt’s hand. The grip loosened slightly, allowing him to speak.

“ _Should_ I be afraid of you?”

Geralt’s expression contorted into one of anger.

“ _Yes_ , if you had a fucking ounce of self-preservation, bard…”

He seemed to battle with himself.

“I can give you a minute, maybe two… you need to run. Back towards the city. Don’t look back, don’t stop, just get as far away from me as you can-”

Geralt ripped his hand from Jaskier’s throat as he sank to one knee, digging his fingers into the soft ground around him.

Jaskier hesitated, not sure he could leave Geralt when the man was in such obvious conflict. 

“GO!”

Jaskier went. He ran along the wall back the way he had come. He had been moving for a good minute when he heard what sounded like an agitated cross between a groan and a howl. 

...he probably shouldn’t be more turned on by that.

While he was honestly moving as fast as his feet could carry him, there was a small part of him that wondered what exactly would happen if Geralt caught him. The witcher was bordering on feral, but Jaskier had a maybe unreasonably unshakeable trust that Geralt would never truly harm him. 

And his threats had seemed… specific. 

He barely had time to truly consider it all when two arms wrapped around his chest suddenly, lifting him off his feet. Jaskier’s breath was knocked out of him as he was pulled back against Geralt’s broad chest, feet scrambling to find purchase beneath him.

“Geralt, you-”

Geralt growled loudly at him, burying his nose into the small strip of skin between his collar and his hairline. Jaskier could feel the arms bind tighter around him, preventing him from even the smallest attempt at escape, pulling him back against the full breadth of Geralt’s body.

Oh. That was… that felt like… an unreasonably large cock. 

With an economy of movement, Geralt kicked out one of Jaskier’s ankles and bore him to the ground as he lost his footing. Geralt had a solid, unyielding grip around his arms and torso, so Jaskier had no way to cushion his fall, other than to dig his knees into the ground to slow his momentum. He managed to turn his face to the side so that his cheek took the brunt of impact. Geralt’s weight settled heavily on top of him. 

As he tongued the side of his mouth to make sure all of his teeth were still intact after the impact, Jaskier felt the first thread of nerves run through him. Yes, Geralt wasn’t exactly what one would call gentle on most days, but this was… this was far more than a punch or a shove.

Geralt arm’s slackened as one hand planted into the ground, and one slid to rest on Jaskier’s lower back. 

Jaskier launched himself forward, trying to crawl away only for Geralt to catch him by the waistband of his trousers and shove him flat into the ground. Jaskier let out a startled yelp and found one of Geralt’s hands immediately clamping down over his mouth. He stilled completely, listening to the heavy panting of the man over him. 

The hand Geralt had over his jaw was not only preventing any small sound at all, but also any movement at all; he couldn’t draw breath. Jaskier inhaled sharply through his nose, and panicked at the shallowness of the breath. He could feel his heart start to truly pound in his chest.

He heard Geralt hmmm softly above him, and felt the man’s lips press softly against his pulse. 

Jaskier still wouldn’t say that he felt any fear about his position but… there was no question who was in control here. And that was something Jaskier was not accustomed to. 

For the moment, Geralt seemed content to drag his lips up and down Jaskier’s throat, occasionally rubbing his roughly stubbled cheek against the length or sniffing unsubtly along it.

Perhaps Geralt was just caught up in the post-fight adrenaline, just trying to identify friend from foe. And of course, Jaskier could only be identified as ‘friend’ at this point in their acquaintanceship, so he really had nothing to be worried about.

He felt Geralt hook two fingers under the edge of the trousers. At the same time, the man pressed his hips down into Jaskier’s ass, and there was no mistaking that fully hard cock.

So Jaskier had a little bit to be worried about.

With Geralt’s hand still tight around his mouth, he couldn’t make any sort of protest known. And though yes, Geralt was typically more of a silent and strong type, he was erring far too much on the silent at the moment. 

Geralt lifted his own hips just long enough to rip Jaskier’s trousers halfway down his thighs, exposing his ass to the night air.

That was certainly a whimper in Jaskier’s throat that he somehow managed through his hyperventilating. Jaskier reached back frantically, pushing blindly at Geralt’s body. The man caught his hand with one of his own and slammed it down into the ground, growling angrily. Jaskier froze slightly, other hand carefully tracking back down to the ground beside him. He dug his fingers into the dirt. 

When Geralt pressed back against him...oh.

The man’s enormous bare cock pressed against his lower back, hot as iron in a forge. 

_Oh._

Suddenly, the hand on his face disappeared as Geralt moved above him.

Jaskier drew a deep, shaky breath.

“That’s- ohhh - what a large cock you have, Witcher.”

Geralt roughly cupped an asscheek in each hand and pulled them apart, sliding his cock into the space in between. 

So Geralt had no appreciation for children’s fairytales - or no appreciation for Jaskier’s finely tuned wit. His hands curled into fists as he moaned reluctantly, cock hardening beneath him. It hadn’t really gone soft, but this was more than enough to fill it with all the blood in his body. 

“Oh fuck, Geralt you uh, you’re really… really...”

Geralt made a sound deep in his chest, but no words. He thrust his hips, cock sliding wetly between Jaskier’s cheeks. Jaskier could feel the man’s hands tightening around the meat of his ass, pressure almost painful and surely leaving livid marks on the skin.

On the next thrust, Jaskier couldn’t help but thrust back. Gods, but that felt incredible.

Geralt’s teeth buried themselves into the back of his neck as the man shoved his hips down wildly, splitting Jaskier further apart. Jaskier let a high pitched noise squeak out of him at the pain of those sharp teeth piercing deep enough to draw blood. 

And he was so, so spread open. There was virtually no friction, no abrasion of flesh on flesh. Somehow, Geralt’s cock was wet enough… did the man have oil on him? How had Jaskier not noticed him preparing?

And it kept getting wetter. From the small of his back, where the head of Geralt’s cock was tagging at the top of each thrust, through his crack and down towards his full balls, down his thighs… Geralt was making a mess of him. He could only imagine this was what a woman felt like, cunt dripping in her arousal and fluids soaking down her inner thighs, leaving her ready to…

The head of Geralt’s cock caught on his rim and Jaskier was ready to vibrate out of his skin. Geralt paused in his thrusts, keeping the pressure on Jaskier’s hole. He wasn’t pushing in recklessly… but he wasn’t pulling away either. 

Abruptly Jaskier realized he had full use of his mouth and more vitally, his voice.

“Not really sure what’s come over you Geralt, but uh, if you’re intent on this than, oh fuck yes, yes- then please please please, you need to-you need to prep me, your fingers, your tongue whatever but oh gods you’ll tear me apart if you just shove that huge cock inside me right now.”

Geralt released the hold his teeth had on the back of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier could hear the familiar hum of consideration from the man, and it really truly said something that it was a comforting sound. 

Geralt lapped up the blood that was trickling slowly out of the marks he had left on Jaskier, tongue a gentle reprieve in comparison to the heady, dangerous pressure of Geralt’s cock on his rim. He kept his hips still as he released the iron grip he had on Jaskier’s ass and slowly ran his hands up the man’s body. They started by dipping boldly down towards the vee of his hips and then skirted upwards away from his cock, taking the material of Jaskier’s doublet and chemise with them. Geralt rubbed his palms across Jaskier’s nipples, through his chest hair and back outward towards his ribs. The pressure of his cockhead never wavered. 

“Mmm, Geralt, your hands, they’re so lovely, so rough and calloused, so strong… you could do many wicked things to me with these hands.”

Jaskier felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, a hairsbreadth away from ruin.

“Hmmmmm-mine.”

Though it was barely a word, Jaskier could parse it out. And if it’s intended effect was to soothe Jaskier, well, Geralt should probably try harder not to hit all of Jaskier’s kinks.

“ _Finally._ Yes, yesyesyes, Geralt, yes I’m yours, if you’d just-”

Jaskier made the mistake of trying to move. He had just managed to push his chest slightly off the ground when Geralt snarled at him and flipped him over onto his back with barely an effort, shoving his hips in between Jaskier’s knees. 

“No, no I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Before Jaskier could protest further, Geralt caught two handfuls of his doublet and pulled sharply, ripping the material away from him. He only bothered with a single-handed effort on the chemise, which came away just as cleanly. 

Still growling under his breath, Geralt dove in and set his teeth around the wing of Jaskier’s collarbone, mouthing and sucking at it relentlessly.

Jaskier, having enough experience in the humiliation of leaving a rendezvous with his clothing in tatters, started to try and push his boots off, digging the heel into the ground and wriggling his foot out of them.

If he could just keep his pants intact…

Geralt seemed to approve of the rocking motions of Jaskier’s lower body and quickly ground his cock down, brushing it up against Jaskier’s own leaking dick. 

Jaskier felt his eyes cross at the first contact he’d had on his own cock since this whole hectic mess started. 

Geralt’s dick was still wet, if not more so, and Jaskier’s bare stomach was quickly as soaked as his thighs. 

“You’re so wet, so so wet, gods, I’m covered in it, you’re making a filthy mess of me.”

He peered down between them, trying to get a glimpse of the man’s cock. His breath caught because truly, truly, whatever pains Geralt experienced in his life must have been worth it to have a cock that magnificent. He could barely feel any sense of indignity at seeing it far outsize his own, knowing that he’d soon be fucked in half with it. He’d had far worse blows to his ego with far less recompense. 

He kept talking, only slightly concerned that he was the only one contributing to the conversation.

“Geralt, you must have the Continent’s most perfect cock. Big, thick, it’s a wonder any whore can manage you, you must leave them miserable and empty when you’re done with them. They know they’ll never taste perfection like that again.”

Jaskier felt both boots successfully slide off with no small amount of relief. Geralt was sucking what was sure to be an enormous mark into the base of his throat, being very careless with his teeth as he alternated between bites and sucks, and long strokes with his tongue. 

Gods, it felt so good, so so good to have the man’s teeth in him, his cock rubbing a wet path up and down his belly, he was ready to come. He needed to come. He needed to get his pants off, fuck.

There was no way he could do it subtly with Geralt’s knees pinning most of the material to the ground, but asking the man who had gone totally nonverbal didn’t seem like a winning strategy either…

Jaskier lifted both hands slowly, trying his best not to startle the other man, and tapped him on one bicep. Geralt pulled back from Jaskier’s neck, black eyes almost empty of anything, but the quirk of his brow conveying his attention.

Jaskier reached for the waistband of his trousers, still gathered halfway down his thighs, and pushed them further down, trying to demonstrate his meaning. As Geralt observed, he also bit into the fingertips of his gloves and roughly pulled them off each hand.

“Please, can I…?”

Geralt huffed and pulled back, shuffling his knees off the material. Before Jaskier could thank him, the man had torn the material and flung it off to the side. Jaskier’s cock jumped against his stomach even as he made an irritated noise in Geralt’s direction.

Geralt was on him again in an instant, nose-to-nose and mouth pulled back into a snarl at Jaskier’s attitude. His thighs forced Jaskier’s legs further apart, the witcher’s own trousers quickly becoming soaked with the fluid left on Jaskier’s own thighs. 

Fuck, the man was still fully dressed, only his massive cock hanging out of his trousers. 

Jaskier gazed defiantly back into that blackness, but wisely chose not to speak any complaints he had at the show of aggressive dominance. Geralt caught his chin in one hand, tipped his head slightly to the side, and slanted his mouth across Jaskier’s violently. Jaskier groaned in pleasure as he felt the man’s other hand circle his cock. 

Geralt’s fist was slick and tight and Jaskier had already wanted to come for what seemed like hours, so he lasted only a few strokes before his hips snapped up and he came all over his own stomach and chest. His body went lax immediately, twitching as Geralt pulled his cock a few more times, forcing a final, small spurt of come out that left Jaskier feeling wrung out completely. 

“Mmmm, Geralt, that was excellent, I’ve not come that fast in ages.”

Jaskier murmured the words against his mouth as Geralt licked across his lips a few final times, leaving a trail of spit from where their mouths had been connected, and then let go of Jaskier’s chin, hands moving to clench around his ribcage. Geralt dragged his nose across Jaskier’s chest, sniffing and licking up strands of come where they had landed across his skin. He was a total fucking mess, thoroughly soaked from his ass to his mouth. 

His previous encounters had always been far neater, in far more reasonable places to fuck. 

He had been depriving himself.

Geralt, half wild from whatever the battle had done to him, stripping Jaskier in the night air and leaving him wet and filthy, with barely a word to show he had a care for Jaskier’s feelings on the matter… 

Fuck. He was never having normal sex again.

Though enjoying the afterglow, Jaskier was still hyper-aware of Geralt’s movements around him. He had finished lapping up most of the come splattered across Jaskier and was resting his forehead just above Jaskier’s navel, breathing in deeply as if tasting his scent on the air. 

Jaskier could feel the man’s cock rubbing slickly against one of his thighs, Geralt bringing himself some relief. Jaskier had two hands, a mouth and a willing ass to help him take care of that.

Maybe he just needed some encouragement.

“Geralt, you should absolutely fuck me. As soon as you can loosen me up enough for that cock, it should be inside me, making me scream so loud the townspeople think you’ve found another beast to slay.”

He watched in satisfaction as Geralt’s eyes widened and the narrowed, nostrils flaring and teeth bared as if he were an animal about to strike. 

More slowly than Jaskier anticipated, Geralt’s hands feathered down Jaskier’s sides, across his hips and down his legs, until he was able to wrap a hand around each ankle. He pushed on both legs until he had hooked Jaskier’s ankles over his shoulders, the soft flesh of Jaskier’s calves pressing down against the studded pauldrons. He then pushed himself up onto his knees, Jaskier’s hips coming up easily off the ground. 

“Yes, you can have me any way you want. On my back, on my knees, up against a tree, just, fuck, just get me ready.”

After examining Jaskier’s face for a moment, Geralt turned his attention downwards, hands reaching for Jaskier’s ass to open him up again. He watched as Geralt used one hand to keep him spread, and brought another to his own cock. He gripped himself at the base, and then in one long stroke to the tip, collected the fluid on his cock into his fist. 

Jaskier would have spent more time considering how completely not normal that was if in the next second Geralt wasn’t rubbing the fluid across his asshole, fingertips catching on the rim of it and making him clench down. 

Geralt traced the pucker with two fingers, pushing down lightly to watch Jaskier’s hole try to greedily draw him in. Each time, he backed off on the pressure before he actually breached him.

Though having just come and theoretically satisfied for the moment, Jaskier was already losing patience with the pace.

“You were so eager to get me on my knees, to force that fat cock between my cheeks and ride me that way - what’s the hold up now Geralt? You could be balls deep inside of me if you’d just fucking do something about it!”

Jaskier heard the loud smack of Geralt’s hand meeting the soft skin of his ass before he felt the sting of the strike. A shocked huff of air escaped him as he gaped up at the man. He closed his mouth, licked his lips, and was ready to tell the witcher exactly what he thought of that when the man spanked him sharply again, eyes on Jaskier’s lips. 

Oh, it was like that was it?

Well, Jaskier had never met a boundary he didn’t like to test.

“If you want me to cooperate, you’ll have to serve out a good deal more than that.”

Geralt growled at that angrily. He pressed the thumb of one hand onto Jaskier’s hole, and with the other, delivered a series of short, violent open-handed strikes to Jaskier’s ass. 

Jaskier moaned his way loudly through each one, encouraging the witcher with every hit. With every impact, the tip of Geralt’s thumb pressed into him, easing in centimeter by centimeter. 

The last spank left Jaskier and Geralt both panting, staring at each other with vicious intent. 

Geralt clenched his jaw and removed his hands from Jaskier’s ass. One hand went to an ankle and the other back to his own cock. 

Leaning over Jaskier, he lined up the head of his cock to Jaskier’s hole and paused.

“Are you mad?! One finger is nowhere near-!”

Geralt slapped him, open-handed, across his face. 

Shocked, Jaskier blinked, staring unseeing to the side his face had snapped to at the force of the blow. His cock filled against his stomach rapidly. 

He heard Geralt make one of those pleased noises deep in his chest and felt his head go slightly fuzzy from it. 

He slowly turned his head to look back at Geralt, who seemed to be waiting for a response. Jaskier licked his lips a few times, and raised his own hand to touch the hot skin of his cheek where the blow had landed. When his fingertips made contact, his hips bucked up reflexively at the pleasure that raced through him. Geralt rode out the motion without pushing further in, but smiled meanly down at Jaskier. 

Geralt wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked it, long and slow, tip pressed firmly against Jaskier. He repeated the motion, hips flexing slightly as he moved to his own rhythm. 

Oh, was he…?

Geralt’s pace picked up, and he began pushing down harder against Jaskier’s rim. With each pull of his cock, each roll of his hips, Jaskier’s hole fluttered, relaxing slightly against the stimulation. Jaskier’s cock was very interested in the events and was almost fully hard again. Testing what Geralt would allow him to do, he pushed his hips up just a little on the man’s next downward stroke. Geralt hummed and stripped his cock even faster. 

“Are you close, Geralt? You’re so big, so hard, and you’re almost in me just far enough to spend inside me, leave me dripping from your load.”

Geralt made a surprised noise, and in the next moment Jaskier felt a hand cover his eyes, blocking his sight, his neck stretched back and his hair grinding into the dirt beneath him.

“Wha-?”

His hips jumped in startlement, and Geralt at that moment had thrust down. The head of his cock popped past the ring of Jaskier’s asshole.

“Fuck!”

Geralt whined in the back of his throat and with a few more powerful strokes of his hand, came inside Jaskier. 

At the first shot of come inside him, Jaskier went slightly rabid, grasping at the forearm of the hand that covered his eyes, hips bucking wildly and wailing loudly at the sensation. 

Geralt kept himself just that single, solitary inch inside Jaskier and continued to come. And come. And come. Jaskier began to feel full, too full, at the amount of come the witcher was emptying into him, a seemingly endless orgasm. It filled him up with nowhere to leak out of, the tip of the man’s cock plugging him up and keeping him full. Jaskier couldn’t exactly describe what sort of noises he was making anymore, these primal sounds being torn from inside him. He thrashed against the ground, against the man’s hold, the sensation completely overwhelming. 

After what was far too many pulses of come inside him, Geralt’s orgasm seemed to subside. He withdrew the head of his cock, his come immediately flooding out to drench Jaskier’s ass in another bout of slickness. But not for long, as two of Geralt’s fingers roughly pushed into him, stopping the flow. Geralt shrugged Jaskier’s legs off his shoulder and let them fall to the ground outside his legs, drawing his hand finally away from Jaskier’s eyes. 

Jaskier blinked rapidly as he opened them, immediately looking down towards Geralt. The man had brought his face down towards Jaskier’s hole, taking long, deep breaths of his scent around the fingers keeping Jaskier filled. He ran a tongue across the junction of Jaskier’s thigh, wringing a pathetic whimper out of Jaskier and a weak roll of his hips. 

The noise drew his attention and that black gaze was piercing into him.

Geralt worked his jaw for a moment. He reached out unsteadily for one of Jaskier’s wrists, pinning it to the ground so that he couldn’t move too far. 

“I’m- fuck, Jaskier, I’m, I don’t currently have an… overabundance... of control.”

Jaskier let out a startled laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have quite a gift for understatement? I’d be curious to think what you’d think is ‘very out of control’.”

“Of course you would be. Let’s- let’s not find out. This time, when I let you go, maybe try a little harder to get away.”

“Geralt, don’t insult me. Firstly, I was running as fast as I could earlier, not all of us were given superhuman abilities in our youth. And secondly, I’m not done with you yet. Finally, _finally_ , you seem to be interested in getting your cock inside me, and I won’t be moving until you’ve fucked me properly.”

“Godsdamnit, Jaskier, can you not fucking control your mouth for one blessed moment.”

“Not if my mouth is going to get me fucked.”

“It’s going to get you spanked again, _and_ fucked, you menace. I’m only going to be lucid for another moment or so, until this orgasm wears off and I need to come again.”

“How, uh, how many times will you-”

“As many as I fucking want. If you’re sure you want this, that you can handle me like this, tell me now.”

“Geralt, I feel extremely confident saying I have never wanted anything _more_.”

“Fine, fuck, have it your way. Make sure I get you loose enough before I- you’re so goddamn tight, Jaskier, you’re going to be fucking wrecked…”

“I want it, I want it Geralt, just-”

Jaskier rolled his hips further onto the two fingers Geralt had inside him. Geralt curled them reflexively, the movement forcing some of his come out of Jaskier.

“Can we also, can we also talk about why you have so much spend? I still feel uncomfortably full, like every inch of me inside is just soaked with… if you plan to come in me again, I just- there isn’t any room left.”

Geralt’s eyes had narrowed and the grip on his wrist tightened. 

He withdrew the two fingers with an absolutely nasty squelching noise and drove them back in down to last knuckle.

“Oh fuck yes, that’s… don’t worry about being too rough there, I can take it, ffffffuck!”

Geralt made that same possessive, deep growl from earlier, and Jaskier assumed that meant he was done talking. He curled over to get his mouth down to where his fingers were and started lapping around them, collecting his own come into his mouth. Geralt leaned back up and forced Jaskier’s lips open and licked his come into his mouth, tongue pushing it as deep as he could reach. 

Jaskier moaned helplessly, free hand coming up to catch Geralt by the hair at the base of his neck, holding him there. He pushed his tongue into Geralt’s mouth, chasing his taste. He felt Geralt’s approving growl more in his chest where they were pressed together than heard it out loud. 

Geralt’s fingers were roughly pushing against his walls, one moment toying around his rim and rubbing the muscle around the pucker, the next driving back inside of him to stroke deep. 

Jaskier tried to lean away from Geralt’s mouth to tell him he was ready for another finger, but the man wasn’t having any of it. He alternated between quick sweeps of his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth and then biting his lower lip, pressing swift kisses to the corners of his lips, and diving back in. Even as Jaskier pulled a little harder on his hair… the man was immovable. There was nothing Jaskier could do to stop Geralt from taking what he wanted, not with the unbelievable amount of strength he was trapped beneath. 

It took a second for that thought to sink in and then Jaskier’s eyes rolled back into his head at the massive surge of arousal at it, his legs hooking suddenly around Geralt’s armored waist and pulling his weight further onto Jaskier. His thighs were still wet and slick, and moved easily against the worn leather of Geralt’s armor.

Geralt let out a noise that could have been called a whine, teeth sinking into Jaskier’s lip. Jaskier felt the pain race down his spine like lightning, the shock hitting his balls and reminding him how fucking close he was to his second orgasm. 

Before he could push his cock up into Geralt’s leather-covered abdomen, the man released his wrist and wrapped his hand tightly, too tightly, around the base of Jaskier’s cock, stopping him just on the edge of coming. 

“Noooooo, no no no, Geralt, let me come let me, fuck! Please I’m too close, you can’t!”

Geralt grinned sharply, squeezed a hair tighter, and meanly shoved a third finger into Jaskier’s asshole. 

Jaskier felt his vision slightly white-out, something he’d only ever experienced mid-orgasm before, but he couldn’t. Fucking. Come. with Geralt’s hand keeping him on the edge. He was gasping for breath, every nerve in his body on fire, goosebumps prickling his flesh. If he could just...fucking…

Geralt had all three fingers buried deep within him, but stopped moving. He pulled back slightly from Jaskier, giving the man a moment to catch his breath.

“I don’t want you to fucking stop, Geralt, I want you to let me have this fucking amazing orgasm. You prick, you can come as much as you want, at least let me have this!”

Geralt looked down at him, fully amused and fully unapologetic. He flexed the fingers within Jaskier, managing to avoid brushing his prostate which would have surely sent Jaskier over, no matter what Geralt’s improvised cockring was doing. 

“I hope this isn’t a sign that you’re a selfish lover, Geralt, stealing a man’s orgasm like that. I value generosity in bed over everything, to be quite honest and if you-”

Geralt made a sound, a hybrid of a growl and a hum. When he spoke, it sounded like every word had to be forced out.

“This. Isn’t. A. Bed. And. There’s. Only. One. Greedy. Slut. Here.”

Jaskier’s lips curled.

“And aren’t you lucky this slut is waiting so nicely to be split open on your cock?”

Geralt huffed and released Jaskier’s cock. How the man knew he had dropped away from the edge was anyone’s guess. He’d assume that wasn’t exactly something they taught in witcher school. 

The three fingers the man was working in and out of him had felt like plenty, the pressure bordering on too much, skirting the line of turning into pain. Would three really be enough for that massive cock hanging heavily between Geralt’s legs?

Jaskier craned his neck to get a look at it, slightly hidden by the arm working Jaskier open. 

Fuck. Maybe not.

Geralt seemed to agree with him, as Jaskier felt the tip of his fourth finger graze his rim.

“Oh gods, oh shit, are you going to try and fit your entire hand in me, Geralt? Surely your cock isn’t-”

Geralt’s hand flew to his throat, wrapping his fingers cruelly around and squeezing, cutting off Jaskier’s voice.

Jaskier, while open to any new sexual experience, had never had a partner choke him. Gag him, yes, of course, but none of the highborn lords and ladies nor the timid stableboys or milkmaids had ever been brave enough to try. 

Geralt, on the other hand, didn’t seem to even need Jaskier’s agreement to turn his world upside down. 

His breathing shortened, and he had no voice to cry out with as the fourth finger popped inside his asshole, forcing him further open. Jaskier’s legs clenched down harder around Geralt’s waist and his hands, which had been restlessly groping at the ground, shot to Geralt’s shoulders, fingernails digging uselessly into the pauldrons. 

The fourth finger introduced the spark of true pain as the fingers pulled apart and stretched Jaskier to his limit. His throat worked trying to breath and trying to release the shocked and pleasured sounds caught in his chest. Geralt’s grip did not relent, his face hovering inches away from Jaskier’s, watching him intently.

After a few moments where Jaskier maybe lost track of time from being so godsdamned overwhelmed, he felt Geralt’s fingers yank roughly out of him, followed by a gush of cooling come. Gods, how was there still so much inside of him? And he felt so fucking empty, so open, so ready to be destroyed for anyone else by Geralt’s perfect, huge cock. 

He watched as Geralt collected the fluid off his own cock and smeared it around Jaskier’s hole. From the look on his face as he did it, and the deep, long breath he took, Jaskier had the feeling it was less about Jaskier’s comfort and more about Geralt covering Jaskier in his own sticky scent. 

Geralt’s black eyes flicked up to meet Jaskier’s. He had his fist around the base of his own cock, and was lining up the tip to his hole. As the flushed head popped in past his rim, the pressure of Geralt’s hand on his throat built, Jaskier only able to draw a series of weak, shaky breaths. His body naturally panicked and he began trembling, eyes shut tight as he drew in breath at far too fast a pace. His mind lost focus, a loud buzzing in his ears as he struggled for every inhale.

There was a heavy, dark pause. 

Geralt released Jaskier’s throat as he drove his cock into him in one cruel stroke. Jaskier came instantly, air flooding back into his lungs as his orgasm was torn out of him. His hips had arched violently off the ground as he came messily over his own chest again, and he felt every part of his body relax into a boneless lassitude as he tried to bring more breath back to his body.

Which lasted for barely a second as he felt something even larger pressing against the rim of his asshole. His head flew up as he watched the base of Geralt’s cock, somehow not yet inside him and somehow _larger_ than the rest of it, shove past the ring of now easily welcoming muscle.

“Geralt, what the FUCK- oh gods, what is wrong with your cock?”

Geralt rocked his hips pointedly, forcing the distended flesh further in one centimeter at a time. 

Jaskier almost couldn’t find his words. His body felt like it was being rearranged, like Geralt was making space for himself where there was none, forcing Jaskier to accept more than any man could possibly ever accept. 

The sensation was beyond description, it wasn’t painful, it wasn’t pleasurable, it was simply burning through his every nerve and knocking him towards the edge of consciousness. His body, however, seemed to know exactly how to define the sensation and he felt his cock give a brave twitch as it filled slowly.

Geralt was making deeply pleased rumbling noises, his nose buried next to Jaskier’s ear as Jaskier’s jaw worked, trying to find a way to speak.

“How is this- what is inside me, Geralt? What have you done to me?”

Jaskier felt the final bit of his cock sink into him, heavy balls slapping against his ass.

“Thought you wanted… everything I could give you.”

“You could have fucking warned me that everything you had was a cock twice the size of a mortal man! I can’t, Geralt I cannot, you can’t fuck me with that. You’ll ruin me, I won’t be able to walk, I’ll be crippled-”

“It’s gonna get bigger.”

Jaskier took the requisite moment to experience the shock and panic that sentence sent through him.

“ _What?!_ Geralt, no, you, I-”

“You can say whatever you want, Jaskier, but you’re going to come again on my knot. And if you thought I filled you before, well…”

“Your kn-”

Geralt’s hips flexed slightly, tugging back just a hair to push back in, turning Jaskier’s words into a long, heartfelt groan. He looped his arms around Geralt’s neck and pulled him in closer.

“Very well, if I’m to be ruined, it’s you I want to do the ruining. Give me everything.”

Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s and grinned wildly at him.

The next roll of his hips drew him even a little further back, dragging the slicked length of his cock, of his _knot_ stretching his rim. With each thrust after, Geralt withdrew a little more, and pushed a little more roughly back in, but never far enough out that the bulb of flesh left Jaskier’s overfilled hole. Instead, Geralt spent moments buried fully in Jaskier, grinding his hips in small, tight circles, seemingly most satisfied at feeling his knot being strangled by Jaskier’s insides. His giant cock touched every space inside of Jaskier, a constant pressure against his prostate sending his cock to full firmness for a third time. 

Jaskier felt tears gather at the corners of his eyes, his body trying to cope with having every sense overburdened and keyed up beyond any level he’d experienced before. 

He blinked tightly, trying to squeeze the moisture out before they could become real tears, and felt Geralt’s lips press at the corners of his eyes, smearing the moisture onto his own lips and Jaskier’s face.

The rocking of his hips, while still short thrusts were sharper, rougher as Geralt scraped his teeth down Jaskier’s throat. Jaskier couldn’t keep up with the speed of the rhythm, and couldn’t stop Geralt from brutally grabbing his hips to draw Jaskier towards him as he thrust in. 

Geralt was using him, using his body to chase his release, forcing his magically huge cock deep in him so that he could drown him with his magical flood of come. 

“Deep breath, Jaskier.”

“Mmmm?”

Geralt snapped his hips, as deep as he could drive his cock, and held Jaskier’s hips steady. 

And then he felt it.

The root of Geralt’s cock was slowly expanding even more, fucking, even more than it had already and Jaskier couldn’t take it no, no, he was going to tear him apart…

“Geralt, I-I-”

Geralt’s hips jerked once, twice, knot growing to its fullest.

“This means you’re mine, Jaskier. You’ve taken me as no one else has, taken every inch of my knot like no one else could, and I’m gonna leave you swollen with come, so deep inside, you’ll never be able to get me out of you.”

Jaskier screamed as Geralt’s knot pulsed and he felt the first hot flood of come inside him. His own orgasm hit, but it was secondary compared to the feeling of Geralt inside him, pumping out rivers upon rivers of his come inside of him. 

He floated, on the dull grey edge of consciousness, as Geralt continued to force more and more come into Jaskier, knot still inflated and stimulating every nerve in his ass. His body was limp, his eyes fluttering as he let Geralt move his body how he wanted it to better fill him. 

It took minutes, hours, decades for Geralt to finish coming. When he did, though, his knot kept him firmly lodged inside Jaskier.

Panting, Jaskier caught Geralt’s face in his hand and turned his gaze away from where they were connected to his eyes.

“That was… Geralt, you’ll never be rid of me now. I’m never letting that cock go.”

Geralt hmmed, mouth curled up gently at the corners.

“And speaking of letting go… how is it that you’re still hard?”

“It’s the- it’ll go down. Eventually.”

“Eventually? So we’re… stuck?”

Geralt huffed and let his body weight slowly sink down on top of Jaskier. He seemed worn out, come down off the high of whatever had affected him after the battle. Jaskier accepted his weight, running his fingers gently along the small strip of exposed skin at the back of Geralt’s neck.

“Geralt? Geralt, don’t fall asleep on me, not until you tell me how long I’ll have your bizarrely enormous yet truly gods-blessed cock filling me up.”

“Can’t be helped. M’body’s trying to make sure you get bred.”

“B-bred?”

Jaskier wasn’t aware his voice could reach a note of that height and pitch.

Geralt nuzzled his head into Jaskier’s shoulder, seemingly content to settle down for a nap. Jaskier, on the other hand, had never felt more awake. A painful pulse of arousal shot through him, burning down nerve paths that were not ready for any sort of stimulus in the next, oh, let’s say week.

Geralt sniffed his neck and one eye popped open from where it had drooped shut, looking at Jaskier’s aroused yet indignant expression. The black was starting to recede from the skin around his eyes. His tone was full of disgusting, smug insouciance.

“Like that, do you?”

“Do I like the concept of your body, against many, many odds, trying to plant your seed inside of me? Have fucking mercy on me, Geralt, I might die if I get hard again.”

Geralt hmmed and settled back down into Jaskier’s body. 

“Mmmm, I bet your belly is swollen with my come right now.”

Jaskier stuttered and chanced a quick glance down at his stomach.

Oh _fuck_.

“Geraaaaaaaalt.”

“Don’t whine, I’m comfortable and I just need a few” -he yawned loudly- “a few seconds to recover.”

Jaskier let him have a moment of silence, fingers now playing fondly with the ends of his hair.

A thought occurred to him.

“You know, when I gave you the name White Wolf, I didn’t quite expect-” 

Geralt groaned, blindly reached a hand up and slapped it across Jaskier’s lips, stopping him from completing his frankly hilarious joke.

Just as well. He could think of something even more clever with a little more time.

**Author's Note:**

> @nerdmidas on tumblr
> 
> (if you're looking for an update on my Sentinel!AU series - please understand that I am more allergic to the spectrum of human emotion than Geralt is and am suffering trying to write the comfort part of the hurt/comfort. but it's coming!!)


End file.
